


S.M.P.A

by hotfruits



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Child Abuse, Crimes & Criminals, Hand Jobs, Minor Violence, Multi, Murder, Sexual Content, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-04 09:40:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6652747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotfruits/pseuds/hotfruits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A difficult case reunites Officer Kim Yugyeom with a figure from his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	S.M.P.A

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crayyyonn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayyyonn/gifts).



> SMPA stands for Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency.
> 
> Yugyeom and Youngjae are police officers.  
> Bambam and Jackson are medical examiners (i.e. coroners).  
> Jinyoung is an Inspector.  
> Mark is a toxicologist.

The station is a myriad of noises this morning, filled with chattering coworkers, clicking keyboards, and a quietly buzzing coffee pot. Youngjae, who’s been here since three in the morning and looks about ready to keel over, is hovering by the coffee pot, holding two characterized mugs and nodding along absentmindedly to whatever Inspector Park is saying to him.

Yugyeom yawns and continues to spin around in his chair, successfully keeping himself awake – but failing in curing his boredom. Thankfully, Youngjae returns a moment later with their coffees, handing him the mug with the cute kitten on it that says “Hang in There!” He practically inhales it, despite the bitter, burnt taste. 

“Don’t burn yourself,” Youngjae mumbles, wobbling over to his own chair and sitting down with a groan.

“Like this shit is ever hot enough to burn,” Yugyeom replies, setting down the now empty mug on his messy desk. Youngjae snorts in response and takes a sip, his nose wrinkling in response. “You’d think the SMPA would be able to afford better coffee.”

Youngjae shrugs, choking down the rest of his drink.

Yugyeom cracks his fingers and gives his shoulders a roll, glancing at the clock. “Man, how long does it take for your boyfriend to examine a dead body?” he asks, mostly to himself, but grins when Youngjae scoffs at him, annoyed. “What?”

Youngjae grabs one of his many pens and throws it at Yugyeom’s chest, who catches it with ease. “I’m just saying,” he continues, ready for the distraction that pissing off Youngjae gives him. “Shouldn’t banging the M.E. come with more perks? Like, getting our dead body moved to the top of the list?”

Youngjae rolls his eyes. “Maybe you should bang Bambam then,” he retorts, snapping a rubber band at him this time. It hits him on the cheek and he flinches, his fingers moving to rub at the now tender spot.

“Hey!” Yugyeom shouts, attracting the attention of several coworkers; Officer Hirai gives him an exasperated look and he drops his voice, glaring at Youngjae. “Bambam and I are just friends! Besides, he’s been seeing Jimin.” Youngjae raises a brow, so Yugyeom clarifies, “The new girl who works with Mark.”

Youngjae’s brows pull together for a second, and then realization dawns on him. “Oh, her! Yeah, she’s cute, definitely his ty–” he’s cut off, though, when his phone begins buzzing in his pocket. Yugyeom watches as Youngjae digs it out and checks the message, fingers literally crossed in hope that it’s Jackson and he’s finally ready for them.

“C’mon, Jackson is ready for us.”

“Oh, thank god!”

 

The walk to the morgue is quiet, and soon they’re pushing past the double doors, eyes squinting and noses wrinkling. Yugyeom coughs instinctively, while Youngjae covers his nose with the sleeve of his blazer. “Ugh, I will never get used to this smell,” he whines, his eyes tearing up a little. “Seriously, Jackson, how the hell do you eat in here?”

Jackson, who is standing beside their dead body with a cup of ramen, uses his plastic spork to shovel a mouthful of noodles past his lips. “You get used to it,” Bambam answers for him from his spot at the end of the table, shrugging.

Yugyeom glances over at Bambam, his eyes narrowing. “You literally texted me last night about how annoying it is that your clothes always smell like corpses,” he reminds Bambam, who pouts in response. “And is that my shirt?”

Bambam fingers the hem of the graphic tee he’s wearing. “Oh, yeah…my Marc Jacobs got brain matter on it, so I had to drop it off at the cleaners during my break.”

Yugyeom stares at his best friend for a moment, before turning towards Youngjae and seeing the same exasperated look in his eyes;  _ medical examiners are fucking insane. _ Youngjae sighs and looks away first, clearing his throat. He then directs his attention towards Jackson and asks, “So, what can you tell us about our victim here?”

Bambam grabs the guy’s chart and gives it to Jackson, who hands Bambam his cup of noodles in exchange. “Unidentified male, age 18 to 22,” he begins to read from the chart, listing off the facts first, such as hair color, height, weight, and contents of his stomach. “Several lacerations around his forearms, bruising along his neck and wrists. And see here?” he sets down the chart and grabs the guy’s left arm, holding it up and pointing to the tiny mark in the crook of his elbow. “It’s a fresh mark. We’re not sure what he used, but I sent a blood sample to Mark. Once he’s done with the tox report, we’ll call you.”

“Any prior scars that indicate drug abuse?”

Jackson shakes his head at Youngjae’s question. “Nope, that’s the first one,” he moves to twist the guy’s arm, so that Yugyeom and Youngjae can see his left palm. “See the callouses along his fingertips and the side of his hand?” They nod, and he continues, “He’s left handed. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried shooting up before,” Bambam chokes on the noodles he had just scooped into his mouth, “But it’s extremely difficult to do with your non-dominant hand. Especially if you’ve never done it before.”

“So,” Youngjae frowns, and Yugyeom can see he’s about to come to the same conclusion as him. “Either someone was helping him get high, or this was a murder?”

“Pretty much.”

Yugyeom swears, knowing their case just became much harder. “Any gang affiliation?” he thinks to ask, although looking at this guy’s bare body, he figures it’s a long shot.

“No tattoos, no obvious scars that indicate stabbings, burnings, gunshot wounds, etc etc. However,” he nods at Bambam, who takes one last bite of Jackson’s ramen and hands it back to him, smiling. “Bambam noticed possible signs of abuse on the X-Rays.”

Bambam’s smile drops at Jackson’s words, and he quickly gestures for Yugyeom and Youngjae to follow him. The X-Rays, which are already displayed on the projector, become illuminated when Bambam flips the switch. “Oh my…” Youngjae begins, but soon trails off as he stares at the X-Rays in horrified silence. “Are all…are all of those breaks?” Yugyeom asks, his voice hushed. 

“Yeah. Some of them are pretty old, too,” Bambam answers, referring in particular to a series of dark spots along his ribs. “He would’ve only been a child, so it’s likely the abuse was carried out by a family member. Maybe that’ll help you find out who he is,” he mumbles the last part and switches off the projector, the images going dark once more. 

Yugyeom breathes in and slowly lets it out, before looking down at Youngjae. His face is pale, and unshed tears cling to his eyes. “We’ll figure this out,” Yugyeom promises, reaching for Youngjae’s hand. “We’ll get justice for this kid.”

“How?”

Yugyeom’s heart breaks at Youngjae’s defeated tone, but he quickly shakes it off. “Compile a list of hospitals near where the body was found and send the rookies with some photos of our guy. If he really was that badly abused,” he suppresses the urge to shudder, “Then someone will remember him.”

Youngjae accepts the command with a nod and gives Yugyeom’s hand a squeeze, before dropping it and shuffling over to where Jackson is. Yugyeom watches as Youngjae moves to stand behind him, speaking quietly into his ear. Jackson nods to whatever he says, and when he places a tender kiss along Youngjae’s cheek, Yugyeom turns around and sees Bambam frowning at him.

“You’re going to ask him for help, aren’t you?”

Yugyeom runs a hand through his hair, wishing – once more – that Bambam would just get over this. “He works,” Bambam snorts, rolling his eyes, “Only a block from where the body was found. I’ll be okay,” he promises, adding that he’ll call Bambam as soon as he’s done.

Bambam clicks his tongue and walks away, arms crossed over his chest.

Of course, it’s not like Yugyeom can blame Bambam for being upset with him. The last time he saw Im Jaebum – aka J.B. – well known street hustler who knows a little something about everybody, he was working undercover in a drug ring. Jaebum wasn’t involved in that kind of thing, but he worked in the same area that Yugyeom made his deliveries, so they quickly became acquainted. He could tell the hustler disapproved of his “life choices,” but he never said anything, not even when he had to clean a deep gash on Yugyeom’s arm, using only a piece of his ripped up tee shirt – which he doused with some cheap vodka beforehand. It had burned like a motherfucker, but was nothing compared to Jaebum stitching up his wound in the cramped bathroom of his apartment, using only the materials from the first-aid kid under the sink.

It wasn’t all that bad, though; and he still can’t pinpoint what it was, exactly – maybe it was the way Jaebum’s muscles flexed as he stitched him back together, or the way he smiled, not with his usual smirk or smug grin, but smiled, softly, as he finished bandaging the wound and said  _ there, all better now _ – that inspired him to lean down and close the distance between them.

They hooked up for the first time that night, jeans pushed down their thighs and Jaebum’s hand around their cocks, breathing harshly into each other’s mouths. He left about twenty minutes later, in pain but thoroughly satisfied, and wondering when it might happen again.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long. Jaebum texted him a day later, instructing him to come over after his shift, so that he could check his stitches; which he did, but only after he shoved Yugyeom against the inside of his apartment door, dropping to his knees with a painful sounding thud.

Things progressed pretty quickly from there. Any time spent not working on the case was spent with Jaebum, usually at his apartment, and usually against whichever flat surface best served their needs. Everything was going great – as long as he kept denying his growing feelings, of course – until Jaebum found out he was an officer, after he had missed several calls from the other and Jaebum went looking around, worried something had happened.

Coincidentally, his cover was blown the same day.

While recovering in the hospital from nearly being beaten to death, Jaebum visited him, dark circles emphasizing his haunted expression. He spoke quietly, begging for Yugyeom to believe that he didn’t do this, that he wasn’t the one who blew his cover. Yugyeom desperately wanted to reassure Jaebum, but he couldn’t even lift a thumb without it bringing a pained groan to his lips, which in turn made his swollen eyes tear up, because  _ ouch _ , even the smallest vibration made his broken jaw scream in agony. 

Jaebum left after his heart rate began spiking, and he hasn’t seen him since. At first, it was the recovery that kept him away, and then it was a promise to Bambam, who always believed Jaebum was at fault, somehow; eventually, though, he stayed away on his own accord, fearful of what might happen if he saw Jaebum again.

“Yo, J.B.!” he calls out as he crosses the street, grateful that he sounds more confident than he actually feels. His hands twitch, though, when he approaches Jaebum, who is leaning against the wall of an abandoned storefront, his hair slicked back and expensive shades covering his eyes. He isn’t wearing his usual leather jacket, but instead has on a black, sleeveless shirt, which seems to accentuate his muscled arms and the tattoos adorning them, along with black, skinny jeans with holes in the knees, the material hugging his thighs.

“Well, hello Officer Kim,” Jaebum says with a smirk, giving Yugyeom a little wave with his fingers. 

He hates how much this affects him. “Do you recognize this kid?” he asks, ignoring Jaebum’s flirtations and holding up a picture of their victim, getting straight to the point.

There’s a quiet pause as Jaebum eyes the photograph, and then he’s swearing under his breath and removing his sunglasses, meeting Yugyeom’s gaze with a frown. “What happened to him?”

“He was murdered,” Yugyeom tells Jaebum, even though that’s not the official cause of death. Jaebum continues to frown, but doesn’t comment on what Yugyeom just said, which prompts him to point out, “You don’t seem very surprised.”

“The kid had a shitty life,” Jaebum replies, feigning nonchalance, but Yugyeom can see the way his jaw begins to clench; he’s not surprised, but he’s definitely pissed.

“What was his name?”

“Kim Taehyung.”

Yugyeom thanks him and quickly takes his leave, resisting the urge to look back as he hurries towards his car. 

 

With the use of his name, Yugyeom and Youngjae are able to locate Kim Taehyung’s family, which only consists of his father. They brought the man down to the station, waiting until he sobered up to begin interrogating him; it didn’t take long, though, for the truth to come out, not with the way he shouted about how much he hated his son,  _ the little bastard _ , who thought he was better than him. He wanted to teach Taehyung a lesson, a reminder that _ even if you go off to college, you’re still scum, like me! _ He beat Taehyung and then injected him with heroin, using far too much for someone who’s never had it before. Taehyung overdosed, and when his father discovered his dead body, he tossed him into the dumpster;  _ like garbage _ , he had said, whispering to himself.

Yugyeom stands up and pulls Youngjae along with him, the two exiting the room. “Don’t let it get to you,” he mutters, watching as Youngjae seethes with anger. “It makes the job so much harder,” he continues, placing his hand on Youngjae’s shoulder.

Youngjae shrugs it off and stalks away, probably heading towards the morgue. Yugyeom sighs and heads in the opposite direction, grateful when no one stops him as he exits the building. He quickly locates his car and hops in, driving towards his apartment in a daze.

When he gets there, he’s surprised to see Jaebum outside his door. “What are you doing here?” he asks, not even caring about  _ how _ Jaebum found out where he lives; he’s too exhausted, anyways, and sadness keeps creeping along his bones, threatening to break him from the inside out.

Jaebum takes the keys from his shaking hands, his usual smirk gone, and helps Yugyeom inside the apartment. As soon as the door closes and he’s safely inside, everything comes pouring out; everything from this awful, horrible case to what happened between them, all those months ago. He clings to Jaebum and literally shakes from the force of his tears, knowing that the only thing keeping him from crumbling is Jaebum’s arms, wrapped tightly around his waist.

“Come on,” Jaebum whispers when it’s all done and his tears have subsided to quiet hiccups. “You need rest.”

Jaebum leads them into the bedroom and removes their clothes, before pulling Yugyeom under the covers with him. It’s so familiar, the feeling of Jaebum’s body pressed against his, warm hands caressing his sore muscles; he’s so tired, though, but something is preventing him from falling asleep.

“Sleep, Yugyeommie,” Jaebum says, kissing his worried brow. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Yugyeom breathes out, smiling as he finally finds peace.


End file.
